Chayne was in despair.  Garratt Skinner had started two days before from Chamonix, was already, now, at this moment, asleep, with his unconscious victim at his side, high up on the rocks of the upper Brenva glacier.  There was no way to hinder him—­no way unless God helped.  He asked abruptly of Michel: 

“Have you climbed this season, Michel?”

Michel laughed grimly.

“Indeed, yes, to the Montanvert, monsieur.  And beyond—­yes, beyond, to the Jardin.”

Chayne broke in upon his bitter humor.

“I want the best guide in Chamonix.  I want him at once.  I must start by daylight.”

Michel glanced up in surprise.  But what he saw in Chayne’s face stopped all remonstrance.

“For what ascent, monsieur?” he asked.

“The Brenva route.”

“Madame will not go!”

“No, I go alone.  I must go quickly.  There is very much at stake.  I beg you to help me.”

In answer Michel took his hat down from a peg, and while he did so Chayne turned quickly to his wife.  She had risen from her chair, but she had not interrupted him, she had asked no questions, she had uttered no prayer.  She stood now, waiting upon him with a quiet and beautiful confidence which deeply stirred his heart.

“Thank you, sweetheart!” he said, quietly.  “You can trust.  I thank you,” and he added, gravely:  “Whatever happens—­you and I—­there is no altering that.”

Michel opened the door.

“I will walk with you into Chamonix, and I will bring the best guides I can find to your hotel.”

They passed out, and crossed the fields quickly to Chamonix.

“Do you go to your hotel, monsieur,” said Revailloud, “and leave the choice to me.  I must go about it quietly.  If you were to come with me, we should have to choose the first two guides upon the rota and that would not do for the Brenva climb.”

He left them at the door of the hotel and went off upon his errand.  Sylvia turned at once to Hilary; her face was very pale, her voice shook.

“You will tell me everything now.  Something terrible has happened.  No doubt you feared it.  You came to Chamonix because you feared it, and now you know that it has happened.”

“Yes,” said Chayne.  “I hid it from you even as you spared me your bad news all this last year.”

“Tell me now, please.  If it is to be ‘you and I,’ as you said just now, you will tell me.”

Chayne led the way into the garden, and drawing a couple of chairs apart from the other visitors told her all that he knew and she did not.  He explained the episode of the lighted window, solved for her the riddle of her father’s friendship for Walter Hine, and showed her the reason for this expedition to the summit of Mont Blanc.

She uttered one low cry of horror.  “Murder!” she whispered.

“To think that we are two days behind, that even now they are sleeping on the rocks, he and Walter Hine, sleeping quite peacefully and quietly.  Oh, it’s horrible!” he cried, beating his hands upon his forehead in despair, and then he broke off.  He saw that Sylvia was sitting with her hands covering her face, while every now and then a shudder shook her and set her trembling.